


Reaching Out for the Love You Lost

by archangelwithashotgun



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguments, Breaking Up & Making Up, Debriel Mini Bang, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Gabriel, M/M, Mentions of Sex, Mild Language, misplaced blame, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-07 06:14:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10353948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archangelwithashotgun/pseuds/archangelwithashotgun
Summary: They fought, they fucked, and they forgot. That’s how Gabriel and Dean functioned, and that was how they made their relationship work. But when Gabriel takes it too far during one of their heated arguments, both him and Dean discover that their relationship ran much deeper than they had previously thought.Written for the 2016 Debriel Mini Bang.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am, shaking it up with some Debriel! There is also wonderful art that goes along with this fic, and it's amazing! Here's the link to EmmaTheSlayer's awesome work:
> 
> http://emmatheslayer.livejournal.com/420204.html
> 
> Hope you enjoy my first attempt at a Debriel story!

Dean rolled onto his back with a gasp, arms splayed over his head and eyes closed. His chest heaved frantically and his heart raced erratically, pulsing forth the remaining adrenaline in his veins. Once the rush of the moment had diminished, replaced with familiar bliss weighing down his body, Dean swallowed and sighed, allowing himself to relax.

His brief moment of peace was quickly interrupted by a breathless chuckle. The mattress dipped beneath him and then there was a slick warmth pressed against Dean’s abdomen and chest, and Dean stifled a groan as teeth nipped above his pec, lazily nibbling upward. He lowered a hand to lightly shove against the arm wrapped around his torso.

“Holy crap, no more,” he protested gruffly, opening his eyes halfway. “I don’t think I can take another round right now.”

Gabriel snorted against the dip of Dean’s collarbone, drawing even closer and tugging Dean tighter against his body.

“You started it,” Gabriel mumbled, hand sliding up to cup the side of Dean’s neck, sucking kisses into the already flushed skin there. “You also started the second round. _And_ the third.”

“So what?” Dean shot back, though he tilted his head back in favor of Gabriel continuing his ministrations, his own hands moving down to grip at Gabriel’s hips.

“Basic elementary playground rules,” Gabriel huffed, and Dean jolted with a surprised grunt as Gabriel lurched up to deliver a sharp nip to Dean’s jaw, his fingers curling with renewed force around Dean’s neck as he shifted Dean to face him. “You started it, now I _finish_ it.”

Dean couldn’t hold back the moan that erupted from his throat at the hard kiss that followed, bringing a hand up to grasp at Gabriel’s jaw. It was short, and not to mention slightly painful from the involvement of Gabriel’s teeth grazing roughly over Dean’s lower lip, but damn it all if Dean didn’t sink into it just as deeply as Gabriel was. He attempted to chase after the kiss even after it was over, ignoring Gabriel’s amused huff. The throbbing discomfort stemming from his oversensitive dick reminded Dean of just why he was refusing Gabriel at this moment, and he groaned.

“Give me some _time_ here, man,” Dean almost pleaded. “I’m only human.”

“And as such, crap sexual stamina,” Gabriel rolled his eyes, but loosened his grip around Dean all the same. “I _knew_ that I should have mentioned that pesky flaw to Dad when he was creating mankind.”

Dean scoffed and pushed at Gabriel’s chest once more, a disgruntled grin on his face. “Dude, no reminders that I’m sleeping with someone literally related to God and older than dirt while in bed.”

Gabriel smirked, leaning across to hover over Dean. Dean shivered at the warm puffs of air coating his mouth, Gabriel’s lips brushing playfully against his own.

“Still decades younger than you, Three Rounds,” Gabriel murmured teasingly before leaning down for another kiss.

Dean gave a deep and content sigh and closed his eyes, the hand on Gabriel’s jaw pulling the archangel closer into the kiss, which was being kept surprisingly chaste. Dean couldn’t really find it in him to contemplate very much though, not when Gabriel’s tongue was sweeping across his bottom lip like that. Obediently, Dean parted his mouth, his fingers caressing into the strands of golden hair behind Gabriel’s ear.

Gabriel propped himself up onto an elbow and shifted until he was practically laying on top of Dean, fingers slack around Dean’s neck. Gabriel grunted as Dean’s free hand slid down the expanse of his back, his blunt nails brushing against Gabriel’s hot skin, and came to a halt at the low dip leading to his ass. Gabriel exhaled shakily and emitted a soft moan as he pressed closer to the man.

A heat of something hidden, something _more_ , was simmering between their joined lips. It was enticing, familiar, and so _tempting_. An almost forbidden warmth was flooding through their systems, spouting off dull sparks from Gabriel’s fingers splaying out behind Dean’s skull, or from Dean’s thumb absently stroking across Gabriel’s cheek.

Not good.

When Gabriel had been resurrected, emerging back on the Winchesters’ radar about two years following the averted Apocalypse, rightfully pissed off and frazzled from having woken up as a John Doe in a community hospital bed, there was no denying the tension had begun to accumulate between both him and Dean following their reunion.

On the surface, it appeared as though the former adversaries had just been treating each other coldly due to the influence of previous meetings; what with the holy fire in the abandoned warehouse and Broward County, there was obvious unresolved and angry history. Between the two of them though, that festering anger had only fueled the raw desire that coursed through them, adding lust to the electricity spitting from their glares and snippy comments.

It had all come to a violent resolution during one of their famous arguments at the Bunker. Castiel and Sam had gone out to investigate what seemed to be a probable local case, so there hadn’t been anyone or anything stopping the whirlwind of sarcasm and furious outbursts. It had only ended when Dean finally slammed Gabriel onto the nearest flat surface (the table) and proceeded to shut the archangel up the only rational way he knew how.

He couldn’t _really_ be blamed that the way he chose to shut Gabriel up had been to kiss him so hard his lips almost bled.

Since then, the atmosphere surrounding them was significantly mellowed down; the bite behind insults was replaced with playful tint, the bristling anger behind their fights was overtaken by a silent, dangerous promise to resolve it later between the sheets, and molten glares were flooded with a dark lust and sparkling smirks.

There was still tension, heaps and loads of it, and they still fought and argued and infuriated the hell out of each other. But what better way to work it off than to fuck the absolute shit out of the one causing it? It was the perfect arrangement.

So this? This wasn’t allowed. This wasn’t what they had signed up for. This was not how Gabriel and Dean worked.

There wasn’t room for _feelings_ in their relationship. Relationship… Whatever the hell they were, this just couldn’t happen.

They fought, they yelled, they fucked, and they brushed off whatever else lingered. It was the way Gabriel and Dean functioned, and that was the way it _had_ to be. It just had to, because they were too stubborn, too prideful, too secretly _terrified_ to acknowledge the clear shift they felt with one another. The alternative was more than they were brave enough to explore.

This was different. This wasn’t _them_.

It was Gabriel who broke away from his reverie first, surging forward and thrusting his tongue deep into Dean’s mouth, nipping impishly at Dean’s lip to wrench away from the soft and gentle nature the kiss took. Dean responded in kind, groaning lowly as he kissed Gabriel back a bit with equal roughness, a faint sense of pained relief settling in his chest for the change of pace.

After a moment, Dean yanked himself away from the kiss with a gasp, even more breathless now than he had been a moment ago. He took notice of something else as well, and he burrowed his head deep into the pillow with a loud moan.

“Oh, _fuck you_ ,” Dean grumbled.

Gabriel glanced down and beamed at the sight of Dean’s newly hardened erection bobbing lightly against his stomach, already strained red and profusely leaking precome. Gabriel looked back up at Dean and waggled his eyebrows. “Clearly. Guess round four arrived earlier than expected.”

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” Dean growled.

“Wouldn’t you rather be fucking my asshole?” Gabriel quipped with another bounce of his brows.

Dean just grabbed Gabriel by the shoulders and forcibly rolled them both over until he was on top of the grinning archangel, reaching down to link their hands together and yanking Gabriel’s arms up over his head. Gabriel quirked a brow but his sunshine smile did not falter one bit.

“Shut up,” Dean hissed, leaning down and kissing Gabriel with a resigned groan, effectively muffling Gabriel’s laughter against his lips.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last scene of this chapter is actually the first scene that cropped up in my mind when I began thinking of this story. This, along with the title, was inspired by the song "Distant Shouts" by Little Children. Give it a listen if you'd like!

Untangling himself from a still-horny Gabriel (seriously, no matter how amazing and hot the sex was, Dean was gonna _die_ if he didn’t get a freaking break) proved to be a more difficult task than Dean had anticipated. Or rather, he had anticipated it, but had foolishly chosen to ignore it. Regardless, it was a bitch of a time getting himself free from the archangel’s iron-grip.

Then Gabriel rendered his trip into the shower moot of its original purpose when the archangel snapped himself into the stall and proceeded to pin Dean against the freezing tile wall. Dean was still baffled at the talent Gabriel had to get Dean hard and willing again after, holy hell, four rounds of sex. Dean felt like he should be mad, he should complain, but damn it all Gabriel’s body felt fucking _amazing_ pressed against his own and he couldn’t help but lose himself in the familiar heat.

He was definitely eating those words now, limping weakly down to the kitchen, freshly showered and dressed, and running a weary hand through his hair.

Sam was in the kitchen when Dean entered, glancing up from whatever show he was watching on Netflix.

“Hey,” Sam said.

Dean merely waved a hand in Sam’s general direction in lieu of a verbal greeting, trudging over to the coffee pot on the counter. Sam huffed out an amused breath.

“Guess you finally met your match, huh?” Sam teased.

“Shut up,” Dean grunted, grabbing one of the clean mugs from the drying rack by the sink.

“Seriously, who would have thought that it would have taken a freaking _archangel_ to—“

“Oh, dude, _come on!_ Crossing the line, Sam!” Dean exclaimed, tossing a scandalized look over his shoulder toward his little brother.

Sam tossed his hands up in surrender, but could not prevent the shit-eating grin from stretching across his lips. Dean rolled his eyes and turned back to pouring himself a much-needed cup of coffee. Gabriel had disappeared immediately following their romp in the shower, purposefully leaving Dean to feel the full effects of their eventful morning. Dean blew out a rough sigh, raising the mug to his lips and taking a careful sip of the steaming drink.

“Speaking of, where did he run off to?” Sam asked curiously.

Dean shrugged, ignoring the small nudge of concern prodding at his brain that came with Sam’s question. “Dunno. Not exactly his keeper. He leaves, but he always comes back.” Dean paused for a second before a slow smirk formed on his face. “Like a good boy.”

“… Dude.”

“Y’know, maybe I should dig out that collar he likes—“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Okay, _now_ who’s crossing the line?” Sam yelped, slapping his hands over his ears.

Dean laughed heartily. “Payback’s a bitch, Sammy. And so are you.”

“Jerk,” Sam huffed.

Dean grinned and shook his head, turning around to lean back against the counter and taking another sip of coffee.

“Oh, so hey,” Sam said, pausing his show before twisting around in his chair a bit to fully face Dean. “Garth called a few minutes ago. Said there was a possibility we might be needed on a haunting case in Chicago.”

“Mmm,” Dean acknowledged, swallowing his mouthful of coffee and licking at his lips. “Might?”

“Farlow and Chris are a lot closer, but they’re on a vampire case. Garth said he’s going to check with them to see if they’ve finished up so they could take the case, and if not, we’re needed,” Sam clarified.

“Alright, sounds good to me,” Dean acknowledged, pushing away from the counter with his coffee still in hand. “I’ll get my stuff together.”

Almost a half-hour later had Garth calling Sam back with the news that Chris and Farlow were still tracking a rogue vampire that they missed. Dean and Sam had prepared overnight bags for that reason, so when they received Garth’s call, they were out of the Bunker and on the road to Chicago in less than five minutes.

According to Garth, the ghost haunting an apartment complex in the city had killed four tenants so far, every one of them in the boiler room of the building. Police reports stated that each of the deaths were ruled a suicide, and they probably would have been to Sam and Dean as well had it not been for the statement reading the discovery of ectoplasm leaking from the victims’ ears, noses, and mouths.

By the time they arrived at Chicago, dusk was settling in. They pulled into a nearby motel for the night, deciding on getting a good night’s sleep after the long drive and get things started first thing in the morning.

The following few days were typical of a ghost haunting case: they scoured the building, playing off as interested tenants examining the rooms, spent a while in their motel room eating lunch and searching up the apartment’s history, before ultimately narrowing it down to a likely suspect.

“Okay, so get this,” Sam announced, turning his laptop screen over to face Dean. “Philip G. Howard. He was a resident of the apartment from 2001 to 2003, when he suddenly disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Didn’t move out or anything; he just vanished one day. Missing person report was filed by his family a few days later, but eventually the case went cold and the police stopped looking, so they closed the case.”

Dean put down the bacon burger he was eating, chewing thoughtfully.

“How are we so sure this is our guy?” Dean asked, his voice slightly thick as he spoke around his mouthful of burger.

“We’re not,” Sam shook his head. “But it’s the only lead I can find so far. Other than the four deaths here, I can’t find anything else suspicious about the building. This is it. It’s gotta be.”

Dean shrugged. “Okay. Though, don’t you think that it’s going to be a bitch doing a salt and burn on his bones, considering his body is missing? Upside, probably no grave to dig.”

“All of the deaths were in the boiler room,” Sam said, turning his laptop over to him and shutting it closed. “We could start there in the meantime.”

Dean thought that over for a second before nodding, heading over to his duffle. “Alright, let’s pack up and get ready. Who knows what we might find down there.”

::

Philip G. Howard was what they found down in the boiler room, and not just his bones either.

They didn’t discover that last part until later. Turns out, Howard had been murdered down in the boiler room exactly around the time he had gone missing. Another tenant of the apartment, James Connor, had the one to kill him following a money deal gone wrong, hiding Howard’s body within the walls of the boiler room after the deed had been done. Sam and Dean had believed James Connor to be the ghost at first, seeing as how three weeks following Howard’s disappearance, Connor had hung himself in the boiler, matching the M.O. of the ghost now; however, Connor had been completely cremated, and as far as they could tell, there was nothing else tying Connor to the world.

None of that information was relevant now, of course.

Not now that Howard had shot an invisible wall of pure pressure at Dean and shoved him up the opposite wall, leaving him able to do nothing but watch while Howard forced his hand inside of Sam’s chest with a wheezing gasp from his brother’s mouth, curled his freezing fingers around Sam’s heart, and _squeezed_.

“Sammy!” Dean bellowed, ferociously struggling against his immobile limbs.

Sam gasped weakly in response, sucking in a shallow breaths and grunts as he shoved frantically at Howard’s arm. Howard merely smirked and tightened his grip, and Sam threw his head back with a throat-ripping scream, his arms and legs thrashing violently against the pain.

“No!” Dean shouted, surging forward as much as Howard’s power would allow him. A long growl vibrated through his convulsing throat as he lunged and kicked and fought against Howard’s hold on him, but he slumped back onto the wall in the end, panting with exertion and staring with wide eyes at his brother. “Sam!”

“De…” Sam inhaled wetly, and then his whole body went taut. Dean watched in horror as Sam’s eyes rolled back, his limbs slowly growing limp as he bucked and twitched against the lack of oxygen. A thick gurgle of blood began to spill over Sam’s bottom lip, and his tired efforts for breath were muffled and choked around the blood filling his mouth, throat, and lungs.

“Fuck, fuck!” Dean screamed, gasping as he scanned his surroundings desperately. He turned toward the ceiling, and he shouted, “Gabriel?! Gabriel, it’s Sam! Get your ass down here now and help him!”

Sam was shaking, his eyelids drooping, and Howard was laughing.

Gabriel didn’t reply.

Cold panic flooded Dean’s insides and he kicked back at the wall, his gaze alternating between the ceiling and Sam’s stiffening body.

“Gabriel!” Dean practically shrieked at the ceiling. A second passed before he took in another deep breath. “Cas?! Castiel!”

The pressure that was holding him against the wall was suddenly lifted, and Dean collapsed to the ground like a dead weight. Groaning, he glanced up, catching sight of a familiar trench coat blocking his vision.

“Dean, cover your eyes!” Castiel yelled, flinging his hands out before him.

Dean barely had time to throw his arm over his face and duck into the floor before a hot and quivering beam of light began to fill the boiler room. Howard’s screams of despair and agony roared over the high-pitched screech of celestial power. The machinery around them was going haywire, the clang of metal and shrieking meters and flares of steam echoed in the air, and Dean vaguely thought about the apartment tenants that were more than likely hearing all of this happening in the floors above.

Eventually, Castiel’s power dissipated around them, mellowing down into silence once more.

“Are you alright?”

Dean jumped at Castiel’s gravelly voice above him, whipping his arm away from his face and staring up at Castiel’s concerned blue eyes.

“Sam,” Dean gasped, glancing around for his brother. His eyes landed on Sam’s still form lying on the floor near the opposite wall and he shot forward, crawling over to Sam. “Sammy.”

He dropped a heavy hand on Sam’s chest, pawing at his shirt. He paid no mind to the sound of Castiel’s dress shoes clapping against the hard concrete as he walked over, his full attention on his little brother. Was he breathing, was Sam breathing? Was he even alive?

“Sam,” Dean breathed worriedly, cupping Sam’s pale face in his hands.

“Dean, allow me,” Castiel murmured above him.

Dean watched with bated breath as Castiel laid a gentle palm over Sam’s forehead, a soft glow of light peeking through the seraph’s fingers and around his hand. The wet blood coating Sam’s lips, chin, and throat disappeared, leaving behind clean skin. A few seconds passed, seconds were Dean gnawed anxiously at his bottom lip and flitted his gaze over to Castiel’s expression of firm concentration, and then Sam breathed.

Sam’s chest rapidly inflated with air and he arched upward with a wild gasp, his eyes snapping open. Dean released the breath he had been holding with a sobbed chuckle, grinning widely as he gently clapped his hand over Sam’s warming cheek.

“Hey, you’re okay,” Dean bit out through gritted teeth, the fear and adrenaline of almost having witnessed his brother get killed fading away, leaving behind an exhaustion wave of relief. “You’re alright, Sam.”

Sam shivered and closed his eyes, still fighting to catch his breath.

“Oh _God_ , that was not fun at all,” Sam huffed, still wincing with every few breaths. Dean laughed roughly.

“You’re telling me,” he said. Carefully, he removed his hands from Sam’s face and began to gingerly lift him up. “C’mon, up you get.”

Sam screwed his eyes shut even tighter at the movement, a pained groan leaving him. Dean shot an alarmed look at Castiel. Castiel smiled soothingly, carefully reaching over to run his fingers through Sam’s hair.

“Sam is going to be alright,” Castiel reassured. “Smiting the ghost took much out of me, but I was able to heal him completely. He’s safe, but he will experience remnants of pain from his ordeal.”

Dean nodded slowly, sending Castiel a small yet grateful smile as he helped Sam up into a standing position.

“Would you be able to fly us home, Cas?” Dean asked, glancing over at Sam. Usually, he’d opt to never have to take Angel Airways, but he’d feel a hell of a lot better if Sam was resting in his bed at the Bunker right now, and if he had to endure the discomfort of Castiel zapping him back home, then so be it.

Castiel nodded and reached his hands out, pressing two fingers to Sam and Dean’s foreheads. The scenery around them instantly changed with a jolt to Dean’s stomach, and they were in front of the Bunker’s entrance. Now home, Sam sagged a little bit more in Dean’s hold, jaw clenched as another agonized grunt left him.

“Alright, you’re gonna go sleep it off, man,” Dean said, adjusting his grip around Sam and walking him into the Bunker and slowly down the stairs. “No trying to research, no reading lore books, no binge-watching Jane the Virgin on TV. You’re sleeping, you hear me?”

Sam chuckled wryly, clutching at his side as they walked.

“Yeah, yeah. I hear you,” Sam huffed, stumbling a little as they reached the bottom of the stairs. Dean caught him and hoisted him back up into an upright position, but there must have been some visible indication of his struggle with holding his brother’s weight because Castiel spoke up.

“I can take you to your room, Sam,” Castiel said, stepping over and shifting Sam’s arm over his shoulders, slowly taking him from Dean. “Dean, you should take care of that cut on your forehead. It reopened.”

Blinking, Dean lifted a hand to his forehead and pulled it away, surprised to see it lightly smeared with fresh blood. Huh. He hadn’t noticed that in the scuffle with Howard, he had gotten hurt.

“Right,” he mumbled.

“I can walk, Cas,” Sam protested gruffly as Castiel began to walk, but he accepted the help all the same. Dean said nothing about the way Sam seemed to collapse into Castiel’s assistance, and the way his free hand clutched tighter at his side.

“I wasn’t able to bring back the Impala, but if you’d like I can have Gabriel bring it home. In one piece, of course,” Castiel said.

At the mention of the archangel, Dean felt his insides grow hard and cold, and he set his jaw with an absent nod over to Castiel. As if sensing his sudden growing turmoil, Castiel sent a worried frown over to Dean. Dean just shook his head and continued to follow them down the hallway leading to their bedrooms.

“Make sure you actually get some rest, Sam,” Dean said as they reached Sam’s room, smiling stiffly. “Don’t ever scare the shit out of me like that ever again.”

Sam scoffed but grinned lightly. “How else am I going to keep you on your toes?”

Resisting the urge to reach over and swat his little brother over the back of the head, Dean just smiled wider and turned to head to his bedroom. He’d pop into Sam’s room later. Right now, he had an archangel to confront.

“Gabriel?” Dean called as he walked into his own bedroom and closed the door behind him. It was silent save for the thud of Dean’s boots echoing throughout his room as he made his way toward the center. Dean scowled, glaring at the ceiling. “ _Gabriel_.”

“It’s a little earlier than usual for our nightly romp. Innit, hot stuff?”

Dean whirled around at the archangel’s voice right behind him. He briefly caught sight of Gabriel’s mischievous smirk inches away from his face before Gabriel was suddenly kissing him, lips firm and hungry against his own. Dean instinctively shut his eyes, hands slowly raising upwards, startled into a momentary frozen state.

Then the memory of Sam gasping, choking on air and blood as Howard’s hand literally squeezed the life out of him, replayed over and over in Dean’s mind.

His hands landed on Gabriel’s shoulders and he pushed, forcefully separating their lips with a wet smack. Gabriel made a noise of confusion, cocking his head to the side as he frowned up at Dean.

“What’s up?” he asked curiously.

Dean just stared stoically at him, his jaw hurting with the amount of force he was applying to clenching it. “Where were you?”

Gabriel’s frown deepened. “What are you—“

“I mean earlier, during the case Sam and I were on,” Dean continued in a low growl, dropping his hands from Gabriel’s shoulders and flexing them at his sides. “I mean when the fucking ghost had me up against the wall, and I couldn’t do anything but watch as he nearly tore Sammy apart. I mean when I _prayed_ to you, asking you to get your ass there and _save_ him. I mean _then_. Where _were_ you?”

Gabriel’s expression lit up in understanding and he huffed out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Jeez, I leave you Winchesters alone for one minute—“

“Stop fucking around, Gabriel!”

Gabriel’s statement came to an immediate halt and he snapped his eyes up to meet Dean’s, which were narrowed and flashing in their fury.

“Why the hell didn’t you answer me?! Why didn’t you come when I – when we needed you?” Dean bit out.

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed at Dean’s little slip-up, but he didn’t elaborate on it as he answered, “I was taking a little vacation. Roaming around Greece. You’re always telling me that having an angel on a hunt takes the fun out of it, so I put my radio on mute and I just—“

“You _what_?!”

Gabriel raised his hands defensively and backed up a little from Dean’s anger, scowling in turn. “You’re the one that told me to stay out of your hunts!”

“Yeah, stay out of them, not _abandon_ my little brother when he’s bleeding and dying while you’re off frolicking through Greece and jonesing for a damn slice of pita bread!” Dean shouted.

“He didn’t die!” Gabriel yelled right back, stepping back into Dean’s personal space and thrusting a finger into Dean’s chest, the force behind it enough to push Dean back a step. “Cassie saved him! So I’m really not seeing what the big fucking deal is! Your precious little brother is not dead, he’s perfectly safe!”

“Sam is my brother,” Dean glowered, almost trembling with the anger pumping through his blood, roaring in his ears as he glared at the archangel before him. “I would have thought that _you_ , out of every other douchebag angel we’ve met, would have understood what that _means_ to me!”

“I get it! Your codependency is fucking legend in these here parts, alright? It’s not exactly news. I get that Sam means a lot to you, but I can’t help the fact that you told me you didn’t need me to do anything on these hunts!” Gabriel snapped. “I am sorry that Sam got hurt, but he’s _fine_ , and I can’t be blamed for the fact that you told me to butt out!”

“Then I should just expect jack shit from you in the future!” Dean yelled, throwing his hands out, “Is that what you’re saying? Then fine! Your hands are clean for later hunts, okay? Especially seeing as how you can’t be expected to do this for me!”

“Yeah?!” Gabriel bellowed, his eyes practically spitting fire and his lips curled into a snarl. “Maybe that’s for the best because I have the scar that proves what happens to someone that does _anything_ for you!”

Dean recoiled violently as if slapped, a soft choking sound escaping his throat and his green eyes widening with blank shock. Gabriel stiffened as what he yelled at Dean registered in his brain and he sucked in a silent breath, his mouth slightly ajar as his expression went slack with cold dread, his own eyes widening. For a moment, they just stared at one another, hardly daring to breathe.

Then Dean hardened his face, his eyes growing narrow with steel, and he wrenched his gaze away from Gabriel with a small huff of air. Gabriel felt as though something physically punched through his chest and squeezed the life out of his heart when he caught sight of the small waver of Dean’s jaw.

Gabriel flinched out of his frozen state, stepping forward. His hand twitched up to reach for the other man. “I didn’t—“

That spurred Dean into motion. With a hard swallow, Dean abruptly ducked away from Gabriel’s contact, dropping his gaze to the floor. Gabriel’s throbbing heartbeat surged up into his throat, and any amount of control left within him to keep his voice from cracking was in vain.

“Okay, that’s not – Dean, that’s not what I—“

“We’re done.”

Gabriel froze, his racing heartbeat practically stopping cold in his chest. “Dean, listen to me, I need—“

Dean shook his head, blinking rapidly. All of the air in Gabriel’s lungs left him in a weak gasp as he watched Dean suddenly whirl around and stalk towards the door of the bedroom.

“Dean!” Gabriel cried. “Dean, _wait_!”

The slamming of the bedroom door was his only reply, and Gabriel flinched with a wet breath at the finality behind it.


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel gave a surprised start at the slam of the bedroom door echoing in the hallway. Frowning, he straightened up and glanced toward the exit, brows pinching together tight in concern.

“That doesn’t sound good,” Sam remarked worriedly, though he didn’t move from where Castiel had practically forced him to lay down on the bed. Castiel turned to him and offered him a weak smile, knowing that Sam would instantly see right through the minimal comfort despite the effort.

The sound of storming footsteps clapped against the concrete floor outside, coming from the direction of Dean’s room. Castiel fidgeted a little, glancing between the door and the immobile Sam on the bed restlessly.

Sam lightly scoffed and smiled at Castiel’s behavior.

“Go see what’s up,” he said, waving a hand towards the exit. “I’ll be alright if you leave me alone for a minute.”

“Thank you, Sam,” Castiel said, once again smiling at him but a bit more genuinely this time. Satisfied that Sam would be fine, Castiel turned and walked out of Sam’s bedroom.

Almost the second Castiel opened the door and stepped out, Dean brushed past him, nearly colliding roughly with Castiel’s shoulder. Bewildered, Castiel stepped into the hall, staring after Dean’s rapidly departing back.

“Dean?”

“Not now, Cas!” came the gruff reply, and then Dean was gone as he vanished through the door leading to the main room.

Now truly worried, Castiel closed the door to Sam’s room and quickly stalked toward Dean’s. Once he reached it, he opened the door and stepped inside, his eyes immediately landing on Gabriel standing in the middle of the room.

“Gabriel, what happened?” Castiel asked sharply.

Gabriel didn’t respond right away, his wide eyes gaping through Castiel, looking incredibly shaken. Castiel took another step forward, a little edge of fear ingraining itself in the back of his mind at the lack of verbal or physical response from his brother.

“Gabriel?”

At that, a twitch flinched through Gabriel’s body and Gabriel came to life with an inaudible breath. Slowly, he glanced down at his shoulder, watching as it quaked.

“Brother, what’s wrong?” Castiel asked firmly, his jaw clenching with increasing anxiety and the beginnings of terror for his brother’s mannerisms.

The only reply Castiel got was the frantic and haphazard flap of wings whipping through the air, and Castiel found himself alone and horribly confused.

The room was empty, but Castiel could still feel the traces of his brother’s screaming Grace lingering from within.

::

Hours passed without a word from either Dean or Gabriel, and Sam just about had enough.

He leaned against the entrance to the kitchen, tapping his fingers against his thigh, and eyeing the keys to the Impala that Dean left on the table in his haste to escape the Bunker. Castiel was gone for the moment; he came into Sam’s room earlier to give him a quick run-down of what he had witnessed with Dean and Gabriel before disappearing to look for the missing archangel.

Stiff and pained as he was, Sam had paced around the Bunker following the occurrence, trying to figure out just where Dean had gone to and how long it would take for him to reach it by foot before he noticed the abandoned keys on the kitchen table.

Just as he made up his mind to grab the keys and go hunting for his brother, Sam heard the Bunker entrance open and clang shut.

Sam quickly shoved himself away from the doorframe and limped as fast as he could down the hall to the main room, biting down the pain radiating from his chest at the abrupt movement. Sam barely made it to the main room by the time Dean managed to get to the middle of the staircase.

Sam came to a slow halt, furrowing his brows at the spectacle before him. “Thought you took the Impala. I was about to go looking for you.”

Dean groaned roughly, hand practically slamming down on the handrail of the staircase as he descended, his steps wobbly and uncertain.

“Not about to risk Baby for this,” Dean mumbled. “Plus, y’know, drunk driving’s illegal and all that shit.”

Sam huffed, walking closer to his brother as Dean managed to make it to the last step before stumbling. Sam shot an arm out and wrapped it securely around Dean’s shoulders, hoisting him back into an upright position. He wrinkled his nose at the stale stench of alcohol wafting up from his brother’s clothes and breath.

“Alright, get up,” Sam grunted, wincing at the near dead weight of his brother and the exertion on his strained body. “You’re completely wasted.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Dean slurred, grinning loosely up at Sam. “Meant to get that way.”

“You’ve succeeded,” Sam said, carefully leading Dean down into one of the chairs at the table.

Dean huffed out a long sigh and collapsed back into the chair, rubbing his face wearily. “God, my face feels disgusting.”

Sam hummed sympathetically, gently easing himself into the free chair next to Dean. He glanced over to Dean, his frown deepening as he took note how drunk he was. He wasn’t so much worried that Dean was drunk, but that he felt the need to do so in the first place. Sam could only assume, with increasing confidence, that Gabriel was the reason that Dean was currently in such a state.

What was going to be a challenge was having Dean admit to what happened.

“So what’s wrong?” Sam asked carefully, leaning back into his chair.

Dean scoffed out a chuckle and turned bleary, bloodshot eyes over to Sam. “Can’t a guy just get shitfaced for the hell of it without it turning into an interrogation anymore?”

“Yeah, you can,” Sam nodded, shrugging. “But you’re shitfaced after what seemed like a really nasty blow-up between you and Gabriel.”

At the mention of the archangel’s name, the carefree gleam of alcohol flitted away from Dean’s eyes, leaving them hardened and cold as Dean set his jaw.

Sam met Dean’s eyes steadily. “So what’s wrong? What happened?”

“Why don’t you ask him, if you’re so fucking nosy?” Dean snapped.

“I would have, but Gabriel bolted just after you left earlier. Cas went to look for him. Neither of them have been back since.”

Dean remained still for a moment longer before releasing a drawn-out exhale, and Dean’s anger subsided into tired indifference as he scratched his head.

“Then he’s gone,” Dean said, lifting his shoulder into a small shrug. “Good fucking riddance. That’s one less feather-douche that I gotta worry about, right?”

Sam pressed his lips together. Dean put up a good act, even while drunk, but Sam knew his brother; he could practically feel the heartbreak rolling from Dean’s words and thrumming painfully in Dean’s chest.

“Dean…” Sam said softly.

To Sam’s minor surprise, that seemed to be enough. It was brief, but Dean’s expression caved in on itself. It pinched in tight sorrow and agony before Dean cupped a palm over his face, partially concealing him once more from his brother’s eyes.

“I’d really rather not, Sam,” Dean muttered.

“Tough,” Sam answered simply with a thin smile. “It’ll help.”

“I’d rather vomit.”

Sam chuckled without humor, never once taking his eyes off of Dean. He would wait Dean out until he was ready to talk. It would have been damn near impossible to coax the information out of a sober Dean, but a drunk Dean was a bit more open than he would admit. He wouldn’t force Dean to talk, but he be damned if he allowed his brother to suffer silently without trying to help.

A moment of silence passed between the two. Sam clasped his hands together in his lap, waiting patiently. Finally, Dean sighed. He dropped his hand, staring distantly at the table.

“He, uh…” Dean croaked, swiping his finger underneath his nose and sniffing dryly. “He blames me.”

Sam’s forehead creased in confusion. “What do you mean, he blames you? Blames you for what?”

There was another hesitant beat of silence before Dean whispered, “For getting him killed.”

Sam felt his insides grow cold, both at the revelation and at the raw anguish thickening Dean’s voice. Shit. This was so much worse than he thought.

“Dean, he doesn’t blame you for that,” Sam murmured. “Of course he doesn’t.”

“He does,” Dean replied adamantly, shaking his head. “Practically said so himself. Screamed it right in my face. It’s my fault.”

“Dean, that was his decision,” Sam said, leaning forward in his chair. “ _His_ choice. You didn’t force him to—“

“I was the last one he spoke to before he faced Lucifer,” Dean cut in brokenly, lifting his gaze to meet Sam’s. “I pretty much called him a coward for not wanting to fight, for not picking a side. And-and that wasn’t fucking fair of me to do that, so I…”

Dean wavered here, and he flitted his eyes away from Sam to once again stare at the table.

“I forced him,” he muttered. “I might not have been the one to stab him, but I did get him killed, Sam. That is _definitely_ on me.”

Silence fell once more, and this time Sam had no idea what to say. All he could do for a long while was gape at Dean, whose eyes were getting progressively shinier, reddened with tears that refused to fall.

Sam reached a hand out, intent on laying it on Dean’s shoulder.

As soon as his finger brushed the fabric of Dean’s plaid shirt, however, Dean wrenched his whole arm out of Sam’s reach and he rapidly shot up, sending the chair sliding across the floor with a clatter. The abrupt movement knocked Dean off balance, sending him flailing for a steadying grip on the table.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Sam soothed, carefully standing up as well and ensuring that Dean wasn’t about to fall flat on his face. “Dean, take it easy, alright?”

“Y’shouldn’t try to make me feel better,” Dean mumbled, turning away and staggering towards the bedroom hallway. “I don’t deserve to feel better.”

Sam felt a dull ache of empathy at the way Dean lowered his face to his hand as he walked, his fingers rubbing at his eyes, before he disappeared into the hallway.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean slowly sank down into his bed, carefully cradling his head in his hands. He heaved out a rough sigh and both of his temples wearily.

Two weeks. Two weeks had gone by, and Gabriel was still missing.

Castiel hadn’t had any luck finding him, and he was still running into dead ends when it came to locating the flighty archangel. The first time that Castiel returned with the news that he hadn’t found Gabriel, Dean merely grabbed his half-drunk bottle of whiskey and left the room. Same as with the second time, and the third.

By the time it reached the seventh time that Castiel came back with no news, the hardened anger had dissipated, and Dean began to really worry.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Castiel had said just yesterday. “You know that I would tell you the instant I found him. Gabriel just… doesn’t want to be found. The last time he was this determined to escape celestial radars, he was successful. There’s no finding him if he can help it.”

Dean had tightened his jaw and nodded, though he was sure his expression was screaming denial. Castiel’s expression had fallen sympathetically, and he had reached forward to squeeze Dean’s shoulder comfortingly.

“I’ll go again. I promise I’ll let you know if anything changes,” Castiel had said before disappearing.

Back in his room, Dean swallowed harshly and clenched his jaw against the wave of anxious nausea crippling his stomach.

“Damnit, Gabriel, where are you?” Dean growled lowly, sliding his fingers into his short hair and gripping his skull tight. “Where the fuck are you?”

Silence answered.

Dean drew in a careful inhale and lifted his head from his hands, glancing toward the ceiling.

“This better not be one of the times you have your radio on silent,” Dean muttered darkly. He closed his eyes and huffed out a humorless chuckle. “Okay, I didn’t mean that. Well, I-I did, but not in the way that…”

Dean sighed again, opening his eyes.

“Seriously, Gabriel, stop this. Can you just stop?” Dean whispered.

When silence answered him again, he threw his arms out to the sides in an almost pleading gesture.

“What do you want me to say?” he asked. “Do you want me to say I’m sorry? Do you – Do you want me to forgive you for what you said? Fine! I forgive you, okay? I _forgive_ you. So will you come ho… Will you come home?”

Nothing.

Dean closed his burning eyes and bowed his head.

“Damnit.”

::

A week later, something finally happened.

“ _Dean_!”

Castiel’s panicked scream echoed throughout the Bunker, and Dean instantly straightened up in his seat. There was hardly a beat of quiet before Dean shot up from his desk chair, swiping the nearest handgun and cocking it as he ran out of the room. Leveling the gun in front of him, Dean quickly and carefully jogged down the hallway toward the main room, eyes rapidly scanning his surroundings.

He sensed it when Sam emerged from his own room and began to follow him in silent pursuit as they made their way to the main area, guns drawn and footsteps swift.

“Cas?” Dean called out warily, turning the corner.

“Dean, come quick!” Castiel’s voice bellowed. “It’s Gabriel!”

Dean’s eyes widened and his stomach gave a cold, unpleasant lurch. The previously potential danger of a threat fled his mind, and he raced to get to the main room. He spared a quick moment to uncock his gun and tuck it safely under the waistband of his jeans before he stalked into the room Castiel was in.

He froze at what he saw.

Castiel met his eyes, taking in soft and quivering pants as he gaped fearfully at Dean. Bewildered, Dean wrenched his eyes away from the distress coating Castiel’s face and glanced down. In Castiel’s arms, cradled as easily as though he were an innocent child, slumped, pale, and eyelids fluttering, was Gabriel.

Dean froze in his place, his eyes wide.

“His Grace is deteriorating rapidly,” Castiel said, walking forward and clutching Gabriel tighter. “He’s – he was keeping me out, but today he got so weak that I was able…”

Dean could barely hear what Castiel was saying, barely registering how his panicked voice trailed off into a muffled echo in the background. Dean only had eyes for the being in Castiel’s arms, taking in how Gabriel was completely limp and still, how his pallor skin was clammy with a thin sheen of feverish sweat, how his closed, veined eyelids were a deep blue and fluttering restlessly, and how his lips, normally curled over a sarcastic remark or a smirk, were chapped and split and parted with short, weak breaths. The visible struggle for the archangel to take in air was like an explosion in Dean’s mind.

Dean stared at Gabriel, his insides numb with cold. He barely took notice of Sam’s whispered curse before his brother brushed past him to help Castiel out, or Castiel’s attempts to capture his attention. Everything was muddled, moving in slow-motion. His head was whirling with terror and self-loathing and agony, and the rush of his blood pulsing through his body was roaring in his ears –

“Dean!”

Sam’s voice cut through the thick, emotional storm, and Dean sucked in a quiet breath and wrenched himself back to reality. Sam was staring at him worriedly, one had on Castiel’s shoulder and the other cupped over Gabriel’s forehead.

“He’s dying,” Sam breathed.

Dean blinked.

And then he lunged forward.

“Hand him here,” Dean grunted, arms outstretched as he stalked his way to over Castiel.

As soon as he reached him, Castiel willingly and securely deposited Gabriel in Dean’s arms, brows furrowing at the weak cry that erupted from Gabriel’s lips at the movement. Dean swallowed thickly, sparing a long glance down at Gabriel’s face, trying not to think about how much lighter Gabriel was than he was expecting.

“What do we do?” Dean asked, turning around and walking back in the direction of his room, confident that Castiel and Sam were following close behind.

“I’m not certain that there is anything we can do,” Castiel answered. “That is to say, Sam and I. _We_ can’t do anything.”

“Then how…?” Sam spoke up, quickly jogging forward to get Dean’s bedroom door open just in time for Dean to brush past him with Gabriel.

“Dean is the only one that can help him now,” Castiel murmured, stepping into the room behind both brothers.

Dean frowned, walking over to his bed and gently laying Gabriel on the mattress. He adjusted Gabriel’s head on the pillow, unable to help himself from sweeping back the hair that had fallen into Gabriel’s face. Dean remained bowed over Gabriel’s body, swallowing hard and clenching his jaw.

“How?” Dean croaked, hastily clearing his throat. “How am I supposed to help him?”

Castiel sighed softly behind him. “Dean, what do you know about angelic claims?”

Dean’s frown deepened and he straightened up to face Castiel. “What?”

“Angelic claims?” Sam asked, crossing his arms and leaning back against the far wall. “You mean like the handprint you left on Dean after saving him from Hell?”

Castiel dipped his head in a half-nod. “Something similar. See, when I pulled Dean from Hell, the mark I left provided for a bond to form between us. This bond could be platonic, familial, romantic, any which way. It’s not as strong as a claim, though. A claim, especially one made by an archangel, is… Gabriel’s Grace marked you as his intended.”

Dean stiffened. “In… Intended?”

“This is not a decision that angels or archangels make lightly,” Castiel said, meeting Dean’s gaping stare steadily.

Dean felt as though all the air in his body was punched out of him. “I, um… He never _said_ anything.”

“Considering Gabriel’s nature, it’s likely that he wanted to keep this from you at all costs,” Castiel said, his expression softening with fond exasperation toward his brother. “Claiming is primal and it’s instant. It’s akin to falling in love as a human.”

Dean closed his eyes slowly and lowered his head into his palm, rubbing his eyes wearily. “Shit.”

“When you two had that fight,” Castiel continued, “Gabriel’s Grace took that to mean that you rejected the claim. Angels are literally created from God’s love, and we subsequently thrive from it. If rejected, our Grace withers slowly… And then—“

“And then he dies,” Dean finished in a gruff whisper, glancing back up towards Castiel. “Right?”

Castiel wavered for a second before sighing. “And then he dies,” Castiel agreed, his voice cracking slightly on the last word. By the wall, Sam remained quiet, watching the exchange before him with rapt, yet sorrowful, attention.

Dean sniffed and nodded, his heart throbbing painfully in his chest as he turned back toward Gabriel. He took in a quiet, shaky breath at the sight of the still archangel on the mattress. Gabriel was hardly moving, save for the tiny pulses of his chest as he kept on breathing, which were becoming increasingly more labored with each second.

Any previous pride or fear that may have held Dean back evaporated, replaced by an unfamiliar certainty of what he was expected, and what he truly wanted, to do.

Gabriel had to live. Dean _needed_ him to be alive. He needed to tell him how sorry he was for the fight that led to this, that he forgave Gabriel for what he said, that…

That he loved Gabriel just as much as Gabriel loved him.

“What do I do?” Dean asked. “How do I help him?”

“Close proximity,” Castiel murmured. “Let his Grace feel your soul nearby and be enveloped by it. Distance made it deteriorate faster, and now contact is what can heal it. You just… you just need to lie beside him. His Grace will do the rest.”

Dean nodded firmly, his tongue darting out to lick his lips nervously. “Okay.”

Instantly, Dean felt the need to ensure that Gabriel was feeling as comfortable as he possible could for this, and he leaned down to gently pull Gabriel into a sitting position, carefully slipping Gabriel’s arms out of the sleeves of his coat. Gabriel gave the smallest groans as he was shifted around, and Dean found himself smiling softly down at him. Tossing the jacket at the foot of the bed, Dean curled a firm hand around Gabriel’s bicep and cupped the other around the back of his head, laying him back down. Eyeing Gabriel’s jeans, Dean bit his bottom lip and turned around.

“Maybe, um,” Dean started, feeling a warm blush begin to coat his neck and his cheeks. “Can you guys…”

“Ah, you want us to give you some space. Sam, it would be best if we went out for food,” Castiel suggested, facing the younger Winchester and gesturing towards the door. “I imagine Dean will need it.”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam said, nodding as he made to follow Castiel out of the room.

“Wait, Cas,” Dean called before the two of them could disappear. “How long will this take?”

Castiel sighed, lifting his shoulders in an apologetic shrug. “I cannot say. All I do know is that until Gabriel’s out of danger, possibly until he wakes up, I would not recommend leaving this room. You can leave for short bursts if you need to take a shower or relieve yourself, but other than that… he’s incredibly fragile right now. He needs you.”

Dean nodded, slightly taken aback at the renewed revelation that a being as powerful and invincible as Gabriel could be considered fragile. “Okay. Yeah, no problem.”

Castiel nodded, his lips quirking up into a soft, hopeful smile.

“Alright, Dean, we’ll be back soon with some food,” Sam said, stepping out into the hallway. He looked back into the room, regarding Dean closely. “Dean, I… It’ll work, okay? He’ll be alright.”

Dean smiled thinly. “Yeah, I hope so. Thanks, Sammy.”

Sam smiled back and ducked out of the doorway, Castiel following close behind. Listening as their footsteps trailed off into silence down the hallway, Dean ran a hand over his face and heaved out a long sigh.

“Dean.”

Dean flinched in shock, whirling around. Gabriel’s pale, sweaty face was pinched in discomfort, and his breaths were coming out in weak gasps. His lips wobbled heavily, and Dean stepped forward with a sharp inhale, cupping a hand over Gabriel’s cheek.

“Gabe?” he whispered, frantically scanning Gabriel’s face. “Gabriel, can you hear me? C’mon, please. Answer me.”

Gabriel’s body relaxed into the mattress as he let out a heavy exhale, and he nuzzled further into Dean’s hand. His eyelids fluttered yet he didn’t wake, and he didn’t answer Dean.

“Dean,” Gabriel murmured again, so quiet it was almost inaudible, but Dean heard it all the same. Gabriel shook, tilting his face further into Dean’s hand, and he was silent once more.

Though disappointed that Gabriel hadn’t woken up, Dean couldn’t stop the fond smile that pulled at his lips or the warmth of relieved tears that began to build up in his eyes. Dean swallowed and removed his hand from Gabriel’s face, making fast work to pull Gabriel’s pants down his legs, discarding the jeans somewhere at the floor of the bed.

Once Gabriel was stripped down to his shirt and boxers, Dean hurriedly took off his own clothes until he was in his underwear. He climbed into the bed, thankful that the covers had already been pulled back as he curled up next to Gabriel, and he quickly yanked the sheets back over their bodies.

“Alright, c’mon,” Dean muttered, slipping an arm underneath Gabriel’s form. He gently tugged Gabriel close, rolling him off of his back until he was pressed up against Dean’s side, head resting gingerly on his chest.

Dean slowly wrapped both arms around Gabriel underneath the covers, cradling him in an embrace. The change in Gabriel was instant; any and all tension within Gabriel’s body practically seeped out of him in a trembling rush of air, and Gabriel sunk into Dean’s warmth as if starved for it, slowly nestling himself as close as he could into Dean’s arms. Dean lifted his eyes towards the ceiling, humbled by the desperate behavior. His throat trembled and he took in a deep breath.

“Gabriel?” Dean said, nibbling on his bottom lip. “You’re going to be okay. You hear me?”

Dean ground the rest of his sentence out past clenched teeth, bewildered to suddenly find himself at a losing battle with the emotion welling up inside of him.  It was almost as if they were waiting for the perfect moment to assault him and suddenly all the fear and exhaustion and relief and anger and love that he had been feeling for the past few weeks struck Dean, leaving him raw and shaking. A loose tear trickled down his face and he blinked hard to stave off the rest, scowling as he ducked to bury his face into Gabriel’s hair.

“You’re going to be _fine_ ,” Dean hissed, firmly kissing Gabriel’s scalp and tightening his arms. “You better be.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Is he even getting any better, Cas?” Dean asked, brushing back Gabriel’s fringe from his forehead.

It was now nearing a week after Castiel’s arrival with Gabriel. His appearance had vastly improved from the first day; the color was back in his face, the feverish sweat and shakes had disappeared, and his expression was smoothed over from any and all previous discomfort. Gabriel was looking much better, resting on top of Dean’s chest in a peaceful slumber.

But he had yet to wake up.

Castiel drew his lips tighter together and pulled his hand from where it was cupped over Gabriel’s shoulder, sighing.

“He is getting stronger,” Castiel nodded, glancing over to Dean. “I can feel his Grace regenerating, and it’s grown substantially in strength since yesterday. He should wake up soon.”

Dean shifted, absently running a comforting hand up and down Gabriel’s bicep. “Then why hasn’t he yet?” he whispered gruffly, swallowing hard.

Castiel sagged in a mixture of sympathy and personal sorrow, looking down towards his brother. “He’s probably just not ready.”

“Then _when_? When will he be ready, Cas?”

Castiel bit down on his lip. “That’s up to Gabriel, and he shouldn’t be rushed.”

Dean closed his eyes.

“Dean, you shouldn’t worry,” Castiel attempted to soothe, stepping forward. He placed a gentle hand around Dean’s bicep and gave a reassuring squeeze. “He is getting better.”

“I know,” Dean answered, blinking his eyes open. “I know, I just… he’s like this because of _me_ —“

“You couldn’t have known this was going to happen,” Castiel quietly cut in, smiling sadly. “This is not your fault. This isn’t anyone’s fault. What matters now is that you’re here with him and he’s going to be okay.”

Dean swallowed and slowly nodded, nudging his chin against Gabriel’s forehead. “Okay.”

Castiel offered one last small smile, pulling back from Dean. Dean tightened his jaw and forced down his lingering fear, looking up at Castiel. “So, um, have you heard back from Sam yet?”

“Not since this morning, but I can call him,” Castiel offered.

Two days ago, Sam had been called up to investigate a possible ghoul case around the Kansas-Missouri border. Sam was certainly a more than capable hunter and would be fine on his own, but that didn’t mean Dean wouldn’t worry. However, he wasn’t about to leave Gabriel alone for anything at the moment, so there were frequent calls to and from Sam for check-ins. The last time Sam had called, he had eliminated the ghoul and was wrapping things up before heading back.

Dean smiled thinly. “Yeah, ask him what’s taking so long. And to bring back some pie, yeah?”

Castiel huffed out a tiny breath of amusement and nodded with a smile.

“Okay. I’ll be back soon,” he said before he retreated, stepping out of the room and down the hallway. Dean listened as Castiel’s footsteps grew quieter the further away he walked, finally trailing off into silence. Dean raised his eyes toward the ceiling and released a sigh.

It was too quiet now. Even with Gabriel’s soft breaths brushing against the blue fabric of Dean’s shirt, even with the tiny rumbles of Dean’s hungering stomach, even with the thrum of Gabriel’s heart beating reassuringly against Dean’s chest… it was too _quiet_.

Dean licked his lips and unconsciously wrapping his arms tighter around Gabriel. Without really realizing it, he began to speak.

“Okay, you gotta snap out of it,” Dean mumbled, his voice rough and thick. He cleared his throat carelessly. “You hear me? Snap out of it. Wake up.”

Gabriel didn’t reply. Dean scoffed humorlessly.

“You are honestly the most stubborn, pigheaded, selfish son of a bitch I’ve ever met,” Dean growled, lightly biting down on his tongue as his jaw threatened to quiver. “Going off to die like that and not even…”

Dean’s voice caught here, and he paused. Forcing his composure back, Dean took in a deep breath and continued.

“You weren’t even going to let me know? You were going to _die_ , and I probably would have found out about it… when? The day after? Weeks? Months? When Cas went looking for you and found you just—“

His voice was breaking and Dean couldn’t even stop himself anymore.

“… Would he have even found you?”

Dean swallowed as he choked out the rest of his sentence, fighting furiously against the heat gathering behind his eyes. He raised a hand to wipe rapidly at his face, sniffing wetly. His throat was raw and his chest fluttered with the phantom agony of having been _so close_ to losing Gabriel. Dean blinked quick and hard, shivering against the terror gripping at the edge of his conscious. It wracked through his body, and he was sure Gabriel was quaking as well from the ferocity of Dean’s fear, and he drew in breath after calming breath.

“Well, anyway,” Dean rasped. “You better wake up soon. You better wake up, ‘cause I’m kicking your ass for doing that. And I’m… I need to you know that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for fighting, I’m sorry for running out and driving you out, and… I’m really sorry for getting you killed.”

“’pologizin’, eh? Speak lou’er, didn’ catch tha’.”

Dean stiffened, his heart stuttering with a wild throb of elation and relief. He remained still, hoping against hope that it wasn’t just his mind playing tricks on him, that Gabriel really had woken up and had spoken.

“W’ll? Waitin’ for the apol’gy.”

“Oh, you dick,” Dean hissed out, releasing a breath that he had been holding since Castiel had first reappeared with Gabriel a week ago. He allowed the last of the tears pooled to trickle down the sides of his face, trailing past his hair, and he huffed. “I am not repeating myself, you heard me the first time.”

Gabriel shifted minutely, his cheek rubbing deeper into Dean’s chest with a quiet, groggy groan.

“Ass,” Gabriel whispered into his shirt.

Dean heaved out watery chuckle and was quiet as Gabriel roused himself up to a more awake state. Slowly, a feeling of awkwardness began to settle firmly over them and Dean found himself at a loss of what to say. Was there even a right thing to say in this situation? Was there, to the entity that had all but nearly died for being in love with him?

Gabriel was _in love_ with him, and he had been intent on keeping it to himself and not say anything. He was going to take that to his death, and Dean wouldn’t have known before he could—

Dean sank his teeth lightly down on his tongue again. Tiny tendrils of discomfort were slithering their way into his chest, curling warmly around his pulsing heart. This wasn’t who they were. This wasn’t what Dean and Gabriel did.

But it was now.

Gabriel made a noise that sounded like a sigh and squirmed above him, making as if he were about to roll off of Dean. Instantly, Dean pulled him back to his chest and tightened his arms, nibbling down on his bottom lip. Gabriel froze, but didn’t move away from him again.

“Didn’t know you cared,” Gabriel murmured, no hint of amusement or malice in his voice.

Dean hummed, turning to press his chin to the top of Gabriel’s head. “Yeah, well…”

Gabriel’s smile curved against Dean’s chest. Slowly, tentatively, Gabriel’s arms slid along Dean’s torso until he was holding him back in an embrace. Dean chewed on his lip, allowing himself to relax further into Gabriel’s hold rather than let his nerves get the best of him.

“I didn’t mean it, you know.”

Dean frowned. “Hm?”

“I didn’t mean what I said to you that night,” Gabriel whispered, and Dean’s frown softened at the genuine vulnerability in Gabriel’s voice. “I don’t even know why I said that. It wasn’t your fault.”

Dean said nothing, closing his eyes against the wave of dulled agony flooding his insides. Flashes of blurred images came together in a muddled mess, memories zapping tauntingly in his mind: the neon sign of Elysian Fields, the meeting of the gods, Gabriel’s arrival, his jovial smirk cutting through Dean’s anxiety, Lucifer’s blood stained hands, a pair of ashen wings burned into the floor, Gabriel’s closed eyes forever hiding the broken spark of mischief and pain in disguise—

“Stop. It.”

Dean opened his eyes rapidly as Gabriel suddenly moved above him and he quickly found himself staring into fiery amber pools, Gabriel’s eyes narrowed in carefully contained anger as he glared at Dean, lifting himself up onto his elbow at one side of him.

“Listen to me,” Gabriel said lowly. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t get me killed. Okay? Free will may be your thing, but I made the choice on my own to go in there and help. _I_ decided that.”

Here Gabriel paused, the anger dissipating in his expression until his eyes flitted down to Dean’s chest. Dean watched as Gabriel’s face took on a haunted look, fingers absently tracing along Dean’s pec.

“… I also decided to turn off my prayer channel, and Sam got hurt when he didn’t need to,” Gabriel muttered. “That one was my doing too.”

Dean furrowed his brows and removed one arm from around Gabriel, firmly but tenderly taking Gabriel’s jaw in hand and forcing the archangel to meet his eyes once more. Dean shook his head slowly, and said, “It wasn’t. Not really. Yeah, you left your radio off, and we really did need you that night. But I was scared. Sam’s my little brother; he’s always going to be my number one, and he was hurt, and I was _scared_. Scared because you weren’t there when I needed you to be, and that was…”

Gabriel was watching him closely as Dean took a second to breathe. Steadily, Dean met Gabriel’s gaze.

“I need you to be there,” Dean said, sliding his hand from Gabriel’s jaw until it was cupped around his neck. “It wasn’t fair of me to expect you to be at our beck and call during hunts when I did tell you to stay out of them. I was an asshole.”

Gabriel grinned wryly. “Yeah, you were.”

Dean scoffed and gave a playful warning squeeze to Gabriel’s neck, smirking. “We both were. But for future hunts, do you mind raising the volume on your radio just a little?”

Gabriel smiled. Not a smirk or a sneer, but a genuine smile, and Dean’s stomach quivered with warmth at the sight.

“Yeah,” Gabriel agreed. “I can do that.”

Dean grinned back. “Good.”

Gabriel’s smile brightened the slightest bit before he ducked down to lay on Dean once more, resting his cheek on Dean’s shoulder. Dean quickly situated his arms back around Gabriel and tugged him closer, which Gabriel allowed with a content sigh.

Minutes passed in silence, with Dean gently stroking his hand along Gabriel’s back, fingers caressing his side soothingly. It was silent between the two of them, and after a while, Dean believed that Gabriel had fallen back asleep. The nerve-wracking fear and worry that had plagued him for the last few weeks gradually began to seep out of him and Dean found himself struggling to keep his eyes open.

“… Dean?”

Dean blinked. “Yeah?”

“I wanted to say… I, um…”

Gabriel blew out a long breath, and Dean’s heart leapt to his throat.

“You know?” Gabriel finished lamely.

Dean convulsed with a short chuckle, and before he could think twice of it, he turned his face to faintly brush his lips against Gabriel’s brow.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean whispered, pressing his lips more firmly to Gabriel’s skin. “Me too.”

Gabriel’s next breath shivered out of him with a grin, and Dean smiled warmly, closing his eyes.

They probably wouldn’t be ready to say the words out loud right now, or anytime soon, really. But for the time being, they knew, and that was enough.

“I’m still kicking your ass, by the way.”

“Hm. I’ll be waiting, Three Rounds.”


End file.
